


where are you now that i need you

by casco



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Death, Eventual Smut, Grief/Mourning, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-22 18:13:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30042717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casco/pseuds/casco
Summary: A horrible accident changes the trajectory of Clarke Griffin's and Lexa Woods' life forever. Once best friends, can they navigate their new lives and futures together? Will tragedy bring them closer or force them apart?
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Costia/Lexa (The 100), Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 29
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're waiting on an update for I fell from the sky, it's coming soon! I have it 90% completed and hope to have it out by the end of the week. Don't take my starting a new series as abandoning that one - I won't!
> 
> With that said, I'm not sure how often I will update this. Posting schedule will be irregular for now. I wanna see how well received this is to decide if I should continue, so hit me up with comments and kudos if you like it! 
> 
> I'm on tumblr now @cascowriteswords . But I don't know how to use tumblr yet so bear with me lol.

XxXx

“Go fish,” Clarke grumbles, turning her hand of cards over as she drops them onto the table. She crosses her arms over her chest and slouches back into the seat, sliding down until her chin is comically pressed against her chest. Were she not in the presence of 2 of her closest friends and her boyfriend, she might have worried about how much double (maybe even triple) chin she was exposing with the gesture. 

“Babe,” Finn says, laughing airly around the word. He drops his free hand onto her thigh and gives it a comforting squeeze. “You know we’re playing gin.  _ Go fish _ doesn’t exactly apply here.”

“And you just gave up a good hand, actually,” comes Lexa’s speculation from across the table. She tilts her head, reading Clarke’s cards upside down from her position, and rearranges them until she has 2 sets of 3 matching cards. “Better cards than I have.”

Clarke perks up a little, glancing only briefly at Lexa’s expectant look and her arched eyebrow before she takes another look at her cards. She quickly reaches out and snatches them up, sifting through them and undoing anything Lexa had just done without fully understanding exactly  _ what _ makes her hand so good. 

Cards have just never been her thing. She only plays to make Finn happy, because it’s been a long standing Thursday night tradition since before she was even in the picture. 

“Well you can’t play now that you’ve shown us you have better cards than all of us,” Finn chides, ruffling up her hair noogie-style. Clarke glares at him and just clutches her cards close to her chest, like she’s worried he might try to take them, which earns her an amused grin. “Stop acting like a card gremlin,” he laughs, and Clarke sticks out her tongue, acting much more like a child than the 26 years old she actually is. 

“I never said she has a better hand than me,” Costia supplies, shrugging when Lexa turns her head towards her with her brow still raised. She turns her wrist so her cards are out of sight from Lexa’s wandering gaze. “Leave her alone. She can keep playing if she wants.”

“Thanks, Costia,” Clarke says, shooting a petty glare at both Finn and Lexa. “I know I’m the newest to the group here but you guys can’t just bully me all you want.”

“I’m not bullying you, babe,” Finn says, at the same time that Lexa says, “Yes we can.”

Finn shoots Lexa a look. 

“What?” she asks innocently. She dodges the jab Costia makes towards her with her elbow without even looking down, catching the movement solely in her peripheral vision as her gaze darts from Finn to Clarke and back again. “I’m not the one trying to get laid tonight.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Costia pipes up, turning in her seat so she can fully face Lexa. “I’ll keep that in mind in,” she glances at her watch, “about 3 hours.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Like you could resist me.”

“Keep it up,  _ babe _ ,” Costia says, rolling her eyes right back as she turns in her seat again, this time to face the table and start sorting through her cards again. 

“You’ve been dating Finn for like 2 years now, Clarke. I hope you know that us picking on you has nothing to do with your newness to our little family and everything to do with you just being the easiest to rile up. An easy target.” 

Lexa just can’t seem to help herself, but Clarke takes it in stride. Lexa is Finn’s best friend, and has become one of Clarke’s closest friends over the past 2 years that she’s been dating Finn, too. Along with Costia, Lexa’s girlfriend. They can pick on and tease each other as much as they want, because everyone does it right back to each other. It’s how their dynamic works, and it’s why they make such a great group of friends. 

They return to playing cards until Clarke, despite her apparently great hand, gets bored and decides food is more pressing. She lines up her cards and slips them under the pile in the middle, and before anyone can gripe at her for suddenly quitting in the middle of the game, she stands up. “Nachos?”

“ _ Fuck _ yeah,” Finn says, snaking his arm around her waist to pull her closer. She laughs and leans down, plants a not-so-chaste kiss on his lips, ignoring the gagging noise she hears from across the table. “Trashcan?”

Ever since Finn saw Guy Fierri’s weirdly shaped version of nachos and realized Clarke’s world famous nacho recipe could be constructed in a similar manner, he’s refused to eat them any other way. 

“You do know that there’s literally nothing different between a pan of nachos and trashcan nachos other than how annoying it is to make them, right?” Clarke asks, cupping his face affectionately in her hand. She brushes his wavy brown hair out of his face and smiles when he justs out his lower lip and gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Fine, fine, trashcan,” she concedes quickly, giving him one more peck before heading into the kitchen. 

Clarke turns on the oven to preheat and starts rummaging through the cabinets and fridge to gather up the toppings for the nachos. A few minutes later, someone sidles up beside her and hoists themselves up onto the counter.

“Need any help?” Lexa asks, reaching out to grab an olive out of the can Clarke just opened. Clarke swats her hand away, but not before Lexa manages to snag a few. 

“What about your precious cards?” Clarke asks, raising an eyebrow as she glances over her shoulder at the table, where Finn and Costia look to still be playing. 

“My hand was shit,” she shrugs, and Clarke locks onto her calculating green gaze. If Lexa were anyone else, she might offer an apology to Clarke for giving her a hard time earlier, but Lexa isn’t anyone else. She’s Lexa. And if you can’t handle Lexa being a little abrasive with her sense of humor and, well, everything else about her, then you simply shouldn’t be friends with her. 

“I see,” Clarke responds. She pulls three tomatoes out from the basket on the counter and hands them to Lexa. “Dice these, please. And get your ass off the counter. We are civilized people.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lexa counters, but she obediently hops down and pulls a knife out of the holder and begins to chop with an unnecessary level of precision. 

“You know no one is going to take a ruler to the tomato pieces, right?” Clarke asks with a laugh, as she messily and hurriedly chops up some cilantro. 

“Habit,” Lexa explains. “My dad always said if you’re going to do something, do it right. Even when I was little, if I chopped carrots and the pieces weren’t all the same thickness, he’d either make me start over or he’d deduct a dollar from my allowance for  _ disrespecting the food _ .”

Clarke listens quietly. Lexa isn’t very open about her past - or anything - so when she willingly offers up a tidbit of information that explains what makes her  _ her _ , Clarke always listens carefully. When it becomes clear Lexa isn’t going to say anything else, she speaks. “Sounds...harsh.”

Lexa shrugs. “Maybe,” she says, “But he meant well. It taught me discipline from a young age.” Clarke nods, even though she is unsure of the merit of that, and there’s a beat of silence. Lexa speaks again before Clarke can try to continue the line of conversation any further. “You know you don’t have to make the stupid trashcan nachos, right? We can veto him. Even if Costia sides with him, it would be a stalemate.”

There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes like she’s just dying to stir up a little dinner time drama, like a full blown debate about the shape and structure of a plate of nachos and whether or not it affects the flavor is her idea of a fun Thursday night. Clarke is tempted, but more than tempted, she’s loyal. 

“Nah, it’s okay. It makes him happy. It’s really not that hard to do.”

Lexa hits her with an intense gaze, seemingly sizing her up in a way that makes Clarke swallow and glance back at the food in front of her, thankful to have somewhere else to look. “You really love him, don’t you.” It’s a question, but she doesn’t phrase it like one. It’s more of a statement, but Clarke can feel her still watching her, waiting for a response. 

“I do,” she answers, quickly and reflexively, but it’s true. She loves Finn. He’s safe and warm and he treats her well and she’s comfortable with him. “He’s a great guy.”

Lexa watches her for a few more seconds, and Clarke thinks her eyes might burn a hole into the side of her face. Then she moves towards the oven, squatting down to open the storage drawer beneath it to pull out the cookie sheet and the large coffee can Finn had removed the bottom from specifically to be used to form trashcan nachos. She sets the supplies down on the counter while Clarke finishes chopping up and preparing the various toppings. 

“He is a great guy,” Lexa agrees. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek - Clarke can see from the way her jaw muscles are working - like she wants to say something else. 

“Isn’t it a little late for this talk?” she asks, a playful lilt to her voice. “The ‘hurt him and I’ll hurt you 10 times worse’ deal, right? I’m not going to hurt him,” Clarke reassures. 

Lexa grins at her, amused. “I wasn’t going to say that,” she insists. “Finn’s an adult. I don’t need to be threatening his girlfriends. And like you said, it’s a bit late for that anyways. He’s already in too deep.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Lexa rolls her eyes for probably the 20th time of the evening. “Like I said, you’re just too easy to rile up, Clarke. I wasn’t even trying,” she says, laughing. Clarke throws a cherry tomato at her, which she catches and pops into her mouth. “In case the fact that you’re pretty much my best friend and we hang out all the time sans Finn doesn’t make it clear enough, I approve of you. You’re alright, Griffin. Finn’s a lucky guy.”

“Don’t tell Finn I’m your best friend. He might get jealous,” Clarke says, trying to steer the conversation away from its current trajectory, which has her blushing under Lexa’s praise. 

“I can have more than one best friend,” Lexa tells her. She looks like she’s about to say more when Costia calls to her from the other room. 

“Lex? Can you grab me another beer? I don’t trust Finn alone with the cards.”

Lexa smirks and holds Clarke’s gaze when she calls back, “Yes, dear.” She leans in towards Clarke and whispers, “Children. We are dating children,” and then grabs a beer from the fridge and returns to sit with Costia and Finn at the table. 

XxXx

Two hours later finds Lexa and Costia curled up on the loveseat and Clarke sprawled out on the couch with her feet in Finn’s lap as he massages them dutifully. A sharp jab with her big toe between his ribs had gotten him to shut up about how badly they smell (even though Clarke insists they don’t, because she took a shower at home before she came over to their apartment). 

One of the Wrong Turn movies is playing on the screen - Lexa can’t remember which one - and she laughs when Costia shoots up from the loveseat the second the final credits start to roll, untangling herself from Lexa in a hurry. “Thank fuck,” she says as she stretches. Lexa smiles up at her fondly, still sitting on the comfy seat. 

“You didn’t have to agree to watch it, babe,” she chastises half heartedly. 

“Uh, that’s a lie,” Finn butts in from the couch. “Everyone knows you and Clarke turn into raging -” Finn says, wincing, and Lexa can tell from the satisfied look on Clarke’s face that she’s pinching him underneath the blanket covering them “...ly  _ beautiful grumpy grouches _ if you don’t get to watch your gory horror movies.”

“Ragingly beautiful grumpy grouches, you don’t say?” Lexa repeats, an amused look on her face. 

“You kinda do,” Costia agrees, quickly stepping out of swatting distance as she makes for the hallway that leads to Finn and Lexa’s rooms. “I’m calling it a night, guys. Coming, Lex?”

“Me too, I’m beat,” Finn chimes in, standing up after gingerly removing Clarke’s feet from his lap. 

“You know I have to watch it,” Clarke tells him when he shoots her a questioning look, asking with his eyes if she’s coming to bed. _ ‘It’  _ is  _ A Turtle’s Tale: Sammy’s Adventure _ , a kids cartoon that she has watched after every scary movie since she was approximately 12 years old. 

Finn groans, tilting his head back so he’s looking at the ceiling. 

“I’ll watch it with you,” Lexa offers, to which Costia waves her hand dismissively and turns and makes for Lexa’s room without her. 

“Thanks,” Finn says quickly, like he’s worried Lexa will change her mind in the span of 3 seconds. “Night, babe. Love you,” he says, dropping a kiss on the top of Clarke’s head before heading to his room. 

“You don’t have to stay up,” Clarke tells Lexa, now that they’re alone. “I’m fine to watch it alone. My circadian rhythm is just synced up with the local raccoons. There’s no way I’d be able to fall asleep right now anyways.”

“Well, mine must be, too, because I’m not really tired either,” Lexa says good naturedly, even though it’s well past midnight and they aren’t teenagers anymore. Not even close, actually, with all of them either approaching or already in their late twenties. “But I’m gonna need you to share that blanket, seeing as my personal space heater just went to bed without me.”

“Sure,” Clarke says, absentmindedly patting the couch cushion beside her as she scrolls through her purchased videos on YouTube to find the movie. Lexa stands, the muscles of her legs protesting after she’s been sitting with her feet folded underneath her for the past two hours, and then plops down next to Clarke. 

She lays her arm on the back of the couch behind Clarke and Clarke reflexively shifts closer, until they’re sitting right up next to each other. “Jesus, you’re _ freezing _ ,” Lexa whines when Clarke tucks in closer to her. “I think it’s warmer on the other side of the blanket.” Despite her complaining, Lexa brings her arm down to wrap around Clarke’s shoulders and tucks the blanket in tighter around them. Clarke lays her head on Lexa’s chest as the movie starts, and soon after Lexa dips her head down to rest her cheek on top of Clarke’s head, and at some point less than halfway through the movie, they both doze off, circadian rhythms be damned. 

When Lexa wakes up around 3am, she isn’t surprised to find that she’s still curled up on the couch with Clarke. It’s a scenario that has occurred easily a dozen times before. Rather than try to extricate herself from their tangled embrace, she just shifts until she can get some feeling back in her left shoulder and then goes back to sleep. 

Clarke’s gone when Lexa wakes up again a little bit after 6, somehow having managed to get up without waking her to head to her own apartment to get ready to teach her 8am class at the local university. She finds Finn in the kitchen, fiddling with the Keurig, and she pads over on barefeet to add her mug and Costia’s into the line on the counter. “Morning,” she says, voice still thick with sleep. “Clarke get home alright?”

“Morning,” Finn repeats back to her as he puts two slices of wheat bread into the toaster. Lexa eyes an apple in the fruit basket, but she wants to shower and brush her teeth before she eats anything. “Yep, she’s just fine,” he tells her. “Thanks for staying up last night with her, I was a goner.”

Lexa just gives him a dismissive grunt as he pulls his cup from the Keurig and throws out the K cup, getting out of the way so Lexa can make her and Costia each a cup of coffee. She’s standing there, eyes half open as the coffee drips into her mug, when she feels Finn looking at her. “What?” she asks, without removing her gaze from the coffee. 

“I, uh, wanted to ask you something.” He pauses, like he thinks Lexa might say something. She doesn’t. “Would it be cool with you if Clarke moved in with us? I was thinking about asking her to.”

“Of course,” Lexa answers easily, without hesitation. “She pretty much lives here already, anyways. Is her lease up soon? Do you think she’d want to?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean, I hope so. I think that this might give her a little incentive.”

Curious, Lexa lazily turns her head to look at Finn - who is flashing a pretty large diamond ring in a red wooden box at her, smiling sheepishly. 

“No shit,” Lexa says, eyes widening as she tries to blink herself into a proper level of consciousness for this type of conversation. “That’s awesome, dude. I’m sure she’ll say yes,” she continues, offering up her fist for a bump, which Finn accepts. 

“I hope so. I don’t know when I’m actually going to ask her yet - so mums the word, alright?”

“My lips are sealed,” Lexa promises. “Scout’s honor.”

“Were you a girl scout?” Finn asks, tilting his head. 

“Uh...no.”

“Then that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Stop being a nerd or I’ll tell your girlfriend you’re gonna pop the question,” Lexa threatens, with zero intent behind the words. 

“You wouldn’t,” Finn calls her bluff. 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. For real, man, congrats. If you want any help planning things, I’m your guy.”

“Thanks, Lex,” Finn says, and then, to Lexa’s dismay, he steps forward to hug her. And not just a bro hug, a real  _ hug _ , shared between two people who had been best friends and roommates for almost 10 years now, ever since the start of undergrad. Lexa goes a bit stiff in his arms, but she hugs back, and that’s about as good as anyone can ever get out of her. 

“Carpool to work today?” she asks, after slowly backing out of the embrace, with a smile as least-awkward as she can manage. She and Finn work for the same large law-firm in the city, and although Finn chose to stay working as a public defender out of the good of his heart while Lexa chose to focus her time to specialize in personal injury, they work practically the same schedules. 

“Totally. I’ll drive,” he offers. Lexa nods, and once Costia’s coffee is done, she leaves Finn to his morning routine and heads back to her bedroom to continue with hers. 

Within the hour, she’s kissing Costia goodbye outside of their apartment building as she heads for her car, and then folding herself into Finn’s Prius, which is economically an excellent choice but in actuality, severely cramps her style. And her legs. 

The drive into the city is about 30 minutes, and Lexa swipes through her phone to find the last true crime podcast they were listening to on Spotify the day before. It’s uneventful, with them only bantering back and forth about the mistakes the serial killer made that led to his capture a handful of times, but mostly just listening and enjoying. 

It’s like any other day, until it’s not. 

They’re in standstill traffic waiting to get off the exit ramp, which consists of 3 lanes of traffic, when they hear a loud truck horn blaring from behind them. Finn glances in his side mirror and Lexa turns in her seat to look behind them - eyes landing on a runaway semi heading straight towards them and the cars surrounding them. 

“Fuck,” Finn cries out, “I can’t move. We’re stuck.”

Lexa is silent - she turns around in her seat and leans her head back against the headrest while Finn tries to navigate the car a bit further ahead, only able to poke the front bumper of it a few feet further forward before he’s cornered by the other cars. 

“Breathe. It’s going to be okay. Maybe it will miss us - or the other cars will slow it down before it hits us,” she finally says. Only seconds have passed, even though it feels like an eternity. They can hear the truck getting closer, the blaring horn now ear piercing in the thick, anticipatory silence. Lexa watches Finn try to relax against his seat, pulling at his seatbelt to lock it up, and he opens his mouth to say something in response but never gets the chance to. 

There’s a horrible screeching and crunching of metal as the truck barrels into the handful of cars behind them, and then the Prius folds like an accordion all around them. 

Everything goes black. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wordcount on this got a little out of hand compared to what I had planned. This could have probably been two chapters, but I felt it covered so little ground as far as plot goes that dragging it out into two wouldn't be very productive. 
> 
> Do you guys prefer longer chapters or shorter? Or no preference? I might be able to post more frequently if they are shorter, but also keep in mind I have another fic going and am a grad student, so time is limited.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Clarke regrets sleeping on the couch. 

Now, as she roams around the classroom watching her Intro to Watercolors class working on an abstract project, she feels as though she can feel each and every muscle fiber around her vertebrae with distinct clarity. Every single one of them seems to have complaints about her sleeping arrangements and position the night before, reminding her yet again that she’s not a teenager anymore and her actions do in fact have consequences. Even seemingly harmless and innocent actions like falling asleep on the couch with her best friend while a turtle cartoon plays in the background. 

She’d also need to make it up to Finn later - maybe she’ll take him out to dinner and a movie to get some quality alone time in versus hanging out with Lexa and Costia. She loves Finn’s roommates, but it’s important to her to strike a balance between time spent socializing and time spent bonding as a couple. 

The clock mercifully strikes 9:15, signaling the end of the first of the two classes that Clarke teaches on Friday mornings. She spends a few moments chatting with her students as they clean up and put away their supplies, and then after locking up the classroom she heads to the faculty lounge to make herself her third cup of coffee. 

“Jeez, Griff, save some for the rest of us,” she hears, as a heavy thud of work boots announces the arrival of Raven Reyes in the lounge, having just gotten finished with her 8am lecture as well. 

“Fortunately, there is no shortage of coffee in this lounge, Reyes,” Clarke tosses back at her with a laugh. “I don’t think I could work here if there was.”

“Game night?” Raven asks, stepping up to the counter to pour herself another cup of coffee as well, once Clarke gets out of her way. Clarke decides not to comment on the hypocrisy of it. 

“Yep,” she says, sipping at her mug, “And then movie. And then lacking the sense to just go to bed like a normal person and staying up to watch a second movie with Lexa. Fell asleep on the couch,” Clarke explains, grimacing as she thinks about her sore and aching body. 

“That’ll do it,” Raven says, shaking her head at Clarke’s recounting of her antics the night before. “I had a long night too, but for much better reasons,” Raven continues, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Ugh, okay, gross. I don’t need to hear about what you and Anya have been up to,” Clarke says, squeezing her eyes shut as if it can block out the mental images popping up in her head unsolicitedly. “How is she, anyways? Lexa says she’s basically gone MIA. I’d have to agree, I haven’t seen her around in a while.”

Raven rolls her eyes. “Lexa can call Anya any time she wants. The phone works both ways, you know,” she says. “But...she’s great. I do admit I’ve kind of been taking up all her time. So maybe Lexa can get a pass on this one. We should all hang out soon though. This weekend?”

Clarke watches Raven with a small grin - Raven does her best not to show it, but she’s almost certainly head over heels for Anya. They make a strange pair, but somehow, they do work together perfectly. She could tease her about it, but decides to let it go, simply happy to see her friend happy. “Hm, I don’t know,” Clarke says, in response to her inquiry about getting everyone together this weekend. “Finn and I have been doing a lot of double dates with Lexa and Costia lately, and then I ended up falling asleep on the couch with Lexa last night and I didn’t even see him this morning before I had to leave for work. I feel kind of guilty about not spending enough alone time with him.”

“Trouble in paradise? Is Finny-Pooh getting a little jelly?” Raven teases. 

Clarke throws the rest of her coffee to the back of her throat in a final gulp. “No, no - no trouble,” Clarke reassures her. “Just trying to  _ head off _ any potential trouble, is all. Be proactive, ya know? I don’t want him to think I’m only with him because he has cool friends.” 

It’s still kind of weird to Clarke that they can speak so easily about her relationship with Finn when he and Raven had been high school sweethearts. By the time Clarke came into the picture, though, many years had passed since their amicable breakup and there was only a small blip of awkwardness when Clarke first realized that  _ Finn’s Raven _ was synonymous with  _ Dr. Raven Reyes _ , an engineering professor at the university. 

“Alright. Just checking in. You know I’ll break his neck for you if I have to,” Raven reminds her. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Clarke says with a laugh. “I think I’d like to keep him around.”

Raven just nods knowingly. She glances at her watch. “Shoot, my office hours started 3 minutes ago and there’s an exam on Monday. I should get going before my students start a riot. Wish me luck,” she says, groaning as she dumps out her remaining coffee and quickly rinses out the mug. 

Clarke gives her a salute as she hurriedly walks out the door of the lounge, and begins to casually start to prepare to head back to her classroom in preparation for her next class. Her phone vibrates in her pocket, the screen flashing an unknown number when she fishes it out. She frowns - she normally doesn’t answer calls from unknown numbers, but it’s still early for telemarketers to be calling, and she normally doesn’t  _ get  _ calls from unknown numbers. She meticulously guards her phone number to prevent spam calls. 

Just when she’s sure it’s about to go to her voicemail, she slides the green arrow to the right and brings the phone to her ear. “Hello?” she asks dubiously. 

“Hello, is this Clarke Griffin?” It’s an unfamiliar voice, Clarke is sure of that. But they know her name, so maybe it isn’t spam. A forgotten appointment?

“Yes?” Clarke responds, still uncertain as she exits the lounge and starts her trip back up the stairs towards her classroom. “This isn’t really a good time, I’m at work and -”

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” the stranger interrupts her. “My name is Harper, and I’m a nurse at Arkadia Memorial Hospital. I have a Finn Collins here who has you listed as his emergency contact. Does that sound correct?”

Clarke stops in her tracks, and it feels like her heart stops in her chest at the same time her feet cease movement. “I - uh - yes, yes that would be correct. Is he there? Did something happen?” Clarke asks, speaking so quickly it’s a miracle the nurse can understand her at all as she trips over her words. 

“I’m sorry Miss Griffin, I don’t have very much information. If you could please come to Arkadia at your earliest convenience I can have you speak with a doctor about -”

Clarke drops the phone from her ear and crams it back into her pocket without hanging up as she’s already sprinting up the stairs, towards the exit, then across campus to get to her car which is so inconveniently far away. She tries to calm herself - it could mean anything. Maybe he fell down the stairs at work - he’s always refusing to take the elevator, claiming he has two perfectly good legs - and twisted his ankle. Maybe there was a fender bender in the parking garage and he has whiplash. Maybe he just got a really bad migraine. 

Just because she got a universally dreaded call from the hospital doesn’t mean something horrible happened. It could be a relatively minor, non-life threatening injury. 

Or it could be exactly that. Clarke knows because she’s gotten this call before. Well,  _ she _ hasn’t exactly, but her mother has and by proxy, Clarke, when she was much younger and her father had been killed in Afghanistan. 

It takes everything in her to try to keep herself calm and from jumping to conclusions and safely navigate her way to the other side of the city where the hospital is located. 

She finds the emergency room with ease and enters through the same entrance the EMTs use. She rushes towards the desk in a blur, not noticing that the waiting room of the ER is atypically packed for barely 10am on a Friday morning, and only notices that there is another person standing by the desk when she hears her name. “Clarke?”

Clarke turns her head and unexpectedly, her eyes land on Costia. 

Fuck. If she’s here, it means something happened to both Finn  _ and _ Lexa - why else would she be there?

“Costia? I -” she starts, but the receptionist steps in. 

“Miss Griffin, I assume? And Miss Green, if you’d both follow me to the private waiting area here,” the older woman says, standing up to guide them to a door leading out of the main waiting area and into a more secluded space. Clarke’s blood had already been running cold, but it goes even colder - they don’t bring you into a private room to inform you about your loved one’s minor cuts and scrapes or even a broken ankle. 

Costia seems to realize this all, too, and Clarke hardly even registers it when she reaches down and clasps onto her hand. Clarke squeezes back just as tightly. The nurse checks her pager and peeks out the door down the hall. “Dr. Jaha will speak with you now - unless you’d like to have private rooms? Miss Griffin, you were listed as an alternate emergency contact for Alexandria Woods as well, so we just figured you may want to -”

“It’s fine,” Clarke and Costia both say at the same time. 

“Please, just tell us what’s going on,” Clarke adds. 

The receptionist nods, and there’s a soft knocking on the door as a man wearing a scrub cap and gown steps into the room. “Clarke Griffin, Finn Collins’ contact, and Costia Green, Alexandria Woods’ contact, Dr. Jaha. Miss Griffin is a contact for Alexandria as well,” the woman supplies, and then she leaves the three of them in the room to return to her post. 

Clarke eyes the tall doctor left standing in the room with them both suspiciously and hopefully. Her eyes dart towards the door when a woman shows up and hovers in the doorway - from the looks of it, another surgeon. 

“Could someone please tell us what the fuck is going on?” Costia finally exclaims, and Clarke squeezes her hand again - not as a reprimand like she might in most cases, but as a thank you. 

“Miss Greene, Tris is going to escort you to Alexandria’s room,” the doctor, Dr. Jaha, tells them, glancing behind him at the woman standing in the doorway. Costia glances at Clarke, looking torn - obviously eager to go see Lexa, but reluctant to leave Clarke alone. “Miss Griffin, I’d like to speak with you about Finn Collins before we take you to see him.”

“Go,” Clarke says, the single syllable managing to sound shaky as it leaves her mouth thanks to the way her lips are trembling. There’s a horrible sinking feeling in her gut now and even though Dr. Jaha remains cool calm and collected, she instinctively knows that something is very wrong. 

“Are you sure?” Costia asks, even as she’s stepping towards the door. Their hands disconnect, and Clarke nods, pressing her lips together, and Costia and Tris disappear down the hall. 

“Why don’t you have a seat, Miss Griffin,” Dr. Jaha says, now that they’re alone, gesturing towards the well-worn looking chair against the back wall. 

Clarke only gives it a cursory glance before she turns to look back at the surgeon. “He’s...he’s dead, isn’t he?” she asks, forcing out the words even though her throat feels tight and her mouth is bone-dry. “I can feel it. I know it. Isn’t he?”

“Miss Griffin, Finn was involved in a car accident this morning. A runaway truck lost power steering and hit a pileup of cars in traffic waiting to get off an exit ramp on I-90. Unfortunately, the impact of the surrounding cars caused Mr. Collins - Finn - to sustain catastrophic injuries and internal bleeding. He went into cardiac arrest twice in the ambulance on the way here, and unfortunately we lost him only 30 minutes into emergency surgery to try to save his life. I’m very sorry Miss Griffin. We did everything we could.”

“Oh, God,” Clarke whispers, holding a hand to her forehead like she’s somehow holding her entire body up with it. “Oh my God.” She feels her heart rate increasing, can feel it pounding behind her eyes and hear it rushing in her ears, and her skin is going cold and clammy. She knows she’s going into shock - and Dr. Jaha does, too. 

“Miss Griffin, please, let’s sit down,” he says, and when he leads Clarke towards the chair she moves mechanically, feeling disconnected from her own body as the weight of the words sink in. “Is there someone we can call for you?”

Clarke isn’t crying. She thinks she should be, but she’s not - she’s just sitting in the chair, her head in her hands, and the knowledge that Finn is dead is the only thing she can focus on. It doesn’t seem real. It can’t be real. He can’t be gone. 

“Clarke? Can I call anyone for you?” Dr. Jaha asks again, probably thinking that Clarke hadn’t heard him the first time. That’s when it dawns on her. 

Lexa. Lexa is the only person he could call for her, aside from Costia. She thinks of Octavia and her mother back home in California, and she knows she’ll have to call them, but right now all she wants is Lexa. Or, ideally, Finn, but….

“Lexa,” Clarke manages to get out around the painful lump in her throat. “She - she was in the car too, wasn’t she? That’s why Costia is here? Is she…is she...” she can’t make herself say the words; she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to bear it if she’s lost them both in the same day. 

“Alexandria sustained serious injuries but she survived. She’s recovering in the ICU right now,” Dr. Jaha tells her. Clarke releases a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, some of the tension in her body slackening at the knowledge that Lexa is okay. 

“I...I want to see Finn,” Clarke says, sniffling as she looks up and makes eye contact with Dr. Jaha for the first time since he broke the news. The man looks hesitant but nods. 

“I’ll get one of our counselors to take you to see him, Miss Griffin,” he tells her. “Someone will find you shortly. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Several minutes later - perhaps after allowing Clarke what they thought was an appropriate amount of time to try and collect herself - a grief counselor shows up and leads her to the morgue where Finn’s body is. Clarke lays eyes on his pale, bruised face and the breath wooshes out of her audibly as if someone had just kicked her full force in the gut. That’s what it feels like, too. 

The grief counselor encourages to take all the time she needs before she steps up to the glass to look in, and Clarke does. She takes longer than she initially thought to work up the courage, but she knows the only way she can get the nagging feeling that this all must be some kind of mistake to leave her alone is to look. She’s not sure exactly how long she stands there, trying to muster up the strength, but when she does finally look, she can’t look away. 

There hadn’t been a mistake. Any hope that they had somehow misidentified the body goes out the window as soon as she lays eyes on Finn. Finn who looks so much  _ not _ like her goofy, charming, selfless boyfriend laying there pale and lifeless and expressionless on the table, but is undeniably Finn. She stares until her eyes are burning, struggling to comprehend the reality of what she is seeing, and then finally she blinks, and with that action regains a sliver of composure. She turns around, suddenly unable to look any longer. 

“His parents,” she says suddenly, and the grief counselor puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I need...I need to call his parents.”

“Someone has called them already, dear,” the counselor informs her, and Clarke finally meets their eyes. “They said they are on their way, but the flight will take several hours.”

Knowing that she doesn’t have to be the ones to tell his parents should feel like a weight off of her shoulders, but it doesn’t. She’s not sure anything could make her feel better.

“Is there anyone I can call for you, dear?” The counselor asks, and she shakes her head, same as she had with Dr. Jaha. 

“Can...can I go see my friends? Lexa, who came in with Finn, and Costia is with her...they said Lexa is in the ICU?”

“I can take you to see them, dear,” the counselor nods. 

Clarke doesn’t turn back around to look at Finn even though she’s tempted to take one last look. She doesn’t want to remember him like that, cold and battered and lifeless. She wants to scrub that image from her mind, in fact, even though she knows it’s going to haunt her for the rest of her life no matter how hard she tries. 

The counselor leads her to Lexa’s room and parts ways with her at the door, with a gentle encouraging pat between her shoulder blades. Clarke observes from the doorway, unnoticed so far, as Costia sits by Lexa’s bedside, one hand clasped tightly around one of Lexa’a and the other stroking her hair. Lexa looks to be asleep, but Clarke can hear Costia humming something soothing to her. 

Clarke shifts her weight, feeling conflicted because she’s desperate to be near her friends but also feels like she’s intruding, and the movement finally tips Costia off to her presence. She turns her head and meets Clarke’s eyes and Clarke can see everything within their brown depths - grief and anxiety and pain and sorrow. She imagines her own eyes are portraying something similar at the moment. 

“Clarke,” she says softly, and suddenly Lexa’s eyes flash open, landing immediately on Clarke as well. 

Clarke hadn’t cried yet, not even when Dr. Jaha had first broken the news to her. But seeing the heartbreak in Lexa and Costia’s eyes and the way they’re looking at her like they just don’t know what to say or how to handle the situation finally breaks her down. She falls to her knees and lets out a heart wrenching, strangled sob. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Lexa doesn’t remember much, which she thinks is probably a good thing. She has some vague memories from being inside the ambulance, a couple from her intake into the emergency room and her trauma eval (unfortunately she  _ does _ remember having the tubing place for her punctured lung, which was excruciating). 

The next thing she knew she was waking up in a hospital bed, with a handful of doctors and nurses fluttering around the room. One of them noticed that she was awake and smiled widely at her. “Hey, there she is!” he said, catching the attention of the others in the room. “I knew you’d be up in no time. I know it might not feel like it from where you’re laying right now, but you’re a very lucky lady.”

Lexa blinks at him and glances around the room, feeling disoriented and foggy. Looking down at her own body, she takes in the site of a cast on her right leg, which is propped up on a bunch of pillows. She does a quick scan of her body and she feels a dull aching almost everywhere, but it seems intensified around her abdomen. 

“What…” she starts, then pauses. “What happened?”

One of the other people, who looks more official, steps up to her bedside. “I’m Dr. Robins,” the woman tells her. “You were in a car accident this morning. You had a collapsed lung when they brought you in, and you fractured your tibia and 6 ribs, sustained a grade 2 liver laceration, and you have a concussion, along with several other lacerations from broken glass. I know that sounds like a lot, but you’re going to be just fine. The morphine drip is keeping you from feeling much pain right now, and you were sedated so we could set your tibial fracture, so you may feel a little extra grogginess.”

Lexa blinks, stunned and still somewhat confused. It feels so odd to have lost a chunk of time, especially one during which she apparently went through a lot of trauma. Then it dawns on her. 

“Finn...the guy that was in the car with me. He’s here too? Can I see him?”

Dr. Robins should never play poker. Lexa can tell that something is gravely wrong immediately by the look on her face. “Alexandria,” she starts.    
  
“Lexa,” Lexa corrects, almost purely out of habit. 

“Lexa,” Dr. Robins says. They both watch as the nurses leave the room, only confirming to Lexa that Dr. Robins has bad news to share. “Finn Collins was driving the car you were in. He sustained severe injuries and our surgeons did their absolute best to save him, but unfortunately he succumbed to his injuries shortly after arrival. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Lexa’s brain won’t accept that. She can’t accept that. “What? No...no, he can’t be...he can’t be dead,” she responds, shaking her head in a way that makes a flash of pain rise behind her temples. She squeezes her eyes shut and hears one of the monitors next to her start to beep loudly in warning as her heart rate starts to sky rocket. “We were just going to work. We were just going to work and now - “ More loud beeping as she upsets all of the monitors meant to alert her nurses to changes in her condition. 

“Lexa, honey, I need you to breathe for me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s okay, you can do this. Just breathe,” Dr. Robins says, approaching her bedside to stand closer. 

Lexa doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels the tears rolling off her cheeks and dripping onto her shoulders and her bed. “He can’t be,” she repeats, “He can’t be dead. We were only trying to go to work. None of this should have happened,” she says, her voice cracking and faltering around the sobs that force their way out of her throat. “He’s my best friend. I can’t...he can’t be…”

“Lexa, please breathe. I can give you something to calm you down, okay? You’re going to hurt yourself getting so worked up,” Dr. Robins says, and before Lexa can protest she inserts a needle into her IV line and within seconds Lexa feels her eyelids growing heavy. 

“Costia,” she murmurs, as she blissfully starts to feel herself falling asleep. 

“We’ve called her. She’s on her way.” Lexa hears the words as if Dr. Robins is standing several rooms away rather than right next to her. She falls back asleep and she isn’t sure if she ever wants to wake up again. 

\-----------

She does wake up again, and again, she’s not alone. 

This time, though, it’s a familiar gaze staring back at her - brown eyes verging on auburn with flecks of yellow lightening them even further. “Oh, baby,” Costia says, sounding as relieved as Lexa has ever heard her. She notices then that Costia has her hand without all of her medical lines running into it held firmly between both of hers, and she raises Lexa’s hand to her mouth and presses a long, meaningful kiss to the back of it. “You scared me half to death.”

Costia seems to realize the poor choice of words an instant after they leave her mouth, and it takes Lexa a second to figure out why her face suddenly looks...like that. And then she remembers. 

_ Finn.  _

“I’m so sorry, Lex,” Costia whispers, after a moment of pregnant silence passes between them. “I’m so, so glad you’re okay.” Truthfully, she feels guilty about how elated she is that Lexa is going to be okay. That she’s here, alive, knowing that Finn had been sitting less than a foot away from her in that car and had suffered a much different fate. 

Lexa is crying again. “I can’t...he’s really…” she stutters, unable to string together the words Finn is dead. She can’t come to terms with it, can’t wrap her mind around it. Her best friend for so many years, gone in an instant. And she can’t even remember the goddamn crash at all. She shifts in her bed, trying to sit up more, but nearly yells out at the pain that rips through her torso. More hot tears spill from her eyes, now aided by intense pain and throbbing ribs. 

“Shh, stay still. I can try to adjust the bed for you if you want to sit up more,” Costia says. She wipes at Lexa’s face, trying to dry her cheeks, but it’s useless. “You have broken ribs, babe, and a lacerated liver. I think you should try to stay laying down, if you can. And you have your morphine drip, the nurse tried to explain it to me but…” she trails off. 

“Have you...did you see him?” Lexa asks after a moment, grudgingly complying with Costia’s suggestion to stay put where she is. She feels desperately restless, wanting nothing more than to do something - anything - other than lay in this fucking bed like an invalid. Her normal reaction to this type of overwhelming emotion would be to run for miles until her feet are bleeding and her lungs burning and her muscles are lead. That’s clearly not an option now, and it almost makes Lexa want to scream. 

“No,” Costia says quietly. “But Clarke is here. I think...I think they took her to see him.”

“Alone?” Lexa exclaims, her voice raising a few decibels, and she thoughtlessly tries to sit up again. She hisses and slumps back in bed, eyeing the monitors that are starting to beep beside her and hoping they’ll quiet down before any more nurses or doctors rush in to bother her. “Costia, she can’t - she can’t do that alone,” she grunts out, but now her head is pounding and her vision is starting to swim. The monitors don’t stop, not until she swallows her pride and presses on the button for more morphine. The effect is quick, and she begins to calm down again. 

“I’ll go find her soon,” Costia reassures her. “I just needed to see you and feel you and make sure you’re okay.” Lexa nods, and she understands, but when Costia strokes at her cheek she can hardly register the touch. Her mind is racing with thoughts of Finn lying in a cold locker room somewhere and Clarke having to deal with this all on her own and she feels the first flash of overwhelming  _ guilt  _ that she’s alive and he’s not. 

Lexa’s never been one to allow herself to be vulnerable or to openly ask for much. But between the stress and the pain and the grief she’s feeling, when she inexplicably feels her eyelids getting heavier again, she reaches out and tangles her fingers with Costia’s. “Please don’t leave,” she whispers. “I’m so tired. Please don’t leave me.”

Costia smiles sadly and leans down to kiss her forehead. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

\-------

“Clarke.”

Lexa had been drifting somewhere between sleep and awake for...she doesn’t know how long, exactly. Probably not very long. Hearing Costia say that name snaps her right back into consciousness though, so quickly that her injured brain sends out a pang to her forehead and temples at being so abruptly started awake. 

Her eyes snap open and immediately lock onto Clarke’s. There are at least a thousand words on the tip of Lexa’s tongue as she meets Clarke’s watery blue gaze, but none of them are right. None of them could possibly accurately verbalize the flurry of thoughts and feelings happening in her mind at this moment. 

And then Clarke hits the floor, and Lexa reflexively snaps upright, and she barely feels the pain rip through her at all. The only indication she gets that she probably shouldn’t have done that is the immediate, incessant beeping of the machines next to her and Costia’s sharp, “ _ Lexa _ ,” but she’s deaf to it all as she leans forward, watching Clarke crumple in on herself and being unable to do anything about it. 

“Help her,” Lexa finally finds her voice as she spares a quick glance at Costia. “I’m fine,” she tells her preemptively, noticing the way Costia keeps looking between Clarke and Lexa’s vital signs monitor, which is currently flashing angrily, “Just help her.” To encourage her even further, Lexa leans back into the hospital bed, although she keeps her neck craned forward so she can watch as Costia kneels down beside Clarke. She places a tentative hand on her back and begins to rub small circles between her shoulder blades. 

“Clarke,” she says softly. “Clarke, love, come sit down, okay? I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Costia has to basically carry Clarke over to the chair, but by the time she reaches Lexa’s bedside her sobbing has been reduced to sniffles and tears and a trembling lower lip. She slouches forward in the chair, elbows on her knees and palms pressing into her eyes, and takes a deep, uneven breath. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, “I really didn’t think I was going to do that.”

Lexa and Costia are both eager to comfort her, talking over one another as Lexa’s, “You have nothing to be sorry for,” blurs together with Costia’s, “It’s okay. You don’t need to hold it in.”

Clarke glances up at them and plasters on a sad smile that doesn’t touch her eyes in the slightest. Lexa swallows the lump unexpectedly growing in her throat at the sight of Clarke looking so distraught and broken. It’s rare that Lexa’s ever been faced with a tragedy to such extent that properly timed corny jokes and gentle reassuring squeezes of a hand cannot placate her best friend. She’s at a total loss, and overcome with her own emotions as well. 

Costia sits on the edge of the hospital bed, having forfeited her chair to Clarke, and Clarke turns her attention to Lexa. “Are you…” she starts, then pauses like she’s trying to collect her thoughts. “Sorry, I know you aren’t okay,” she says, and her eyes flit over specific parts of Lexa’s face and hang there, and suddenly Lexa realizes that she should have maybe asked for a mirror or something. The doctor had told her she has  _ other lacerations _ , but frankly she didn’t really care much at the time. Now, she wonders exactly what those other injuries are. Judging by Clarke’s fretting gaze, there’s at least one on her face. “But I just - you’re going to be okay, right? I can’t - if you both - “ she trails off, the muscles of her jaw visibly flexing as she bites down, trying to hold back the sobs that want to break free from her chest. 

The sight of her pain as good as hypnotizes Lexa, putting her into a torturous type of trance induced by another wave of guilt and grief and frustration. 

Costia watches the two, and interjects when it becomes clear Lexa has gone temporarily mute, likely to save Clarke the suspense of waiting for her answer. “She’s going to be fine,” she assures Clarke, and she reaches up to rub her thumb along Lexa’s cheek. Lexa doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels moisture smear beneath the pad of Costia’s thumb across her skin. “She’ll be in that cast for 2 months, at least, and she’s going to be here for at least a few days for observation while they make sure the internal bleeding from her liver stops, and to monitor her concussion and ensure her lung heals up okay. Among other things, like broken ribs and 48 stitches here and there, but she’ll be okay.”

Clarke looks at Costia while she talks, and then back at Lexa before her gaze falls to the ground. “Good,” she says, while the way she wrings her hands contradicts her affirmation, “That’s really good.” 

Her voice sounds strangled and Lexa watches as more tears hit the floor and for the first time that she doesn’t realize at that moment will be of many, she wonders if Clarke is wishing it were Finn in the bed and Lexa in the morgue. It’s a morbid and horrible thought to think, but Lexa can’t help but wonder. She can’t help but think that there’s no way Clarke  _ isn’t _ thinking that right now. Clarke is strong and caring and an amazing friend, but she is - was? - in love with Finn. Lexa wouldn’t even blame her for wishing their places had been swapped. 

A nurse comes into the room then, and Lexa becomes aware of the monitor still beeping, though no longer flashing in warning as she has laid back down and tried to force herself to relax. “Everything okay in here?” the young man asks as he enters with a quick knock on the doorframe. His eyes fall onto Clarke, who has dropped her head back into her hands again, before he moves towards the other side of the bed towards Lexa and begins jotting down information from the monitors. 

“Yes, we’re fine,” Lexa says quickly, eager for him to leave. “Sorry, I tried to sit up. Won’t happen again.”

“Yes it will,” Costia mutters, and normally Clarke and Lexa might have laughed, or Lexa might have pinched her thigh in retaliation, but nothing about this is normal. Costia’s remark doesn’t even have any life to it when it leaves her mouth, and Clarke and Lexa act as if she hasn’t even said anything. 

The nurse does chuckle, though, and shakes his head. “Alright. Well, try to rest, Miss Woods. Dr. Robins will be back around in two hours or so to check in with you. Until then, if you need anything, just press the Call Nurse button.”

Lexa nods dutifully and the nurse takes his leave to probably go check on some other uncooperative patient. When she turns her attention back to Costia and Clarke, it’s to find that Clarke is standing up from her chair and swiping at her watery eyes. “I’m sorry, I - I should go. Finn’s parents - “ she says, wincing. 

“Do you want me to come with you? You’ll be alright here, right Lex?” Costia offers, shifting her weight off of the bed to stand as well. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lexa tells her. 

“No,” Clarke says, a little too quickly, and Lexa gives her a worried look that Clarke evades by fixating on a point on the wall by the door. “I - I think I need a little time. To be alone, before they get here. But thank you, really.” Clarke heads for the door before either of them can say anything else. She pauses for a second and turns back around, and hits Lexa with that same sad, broken smile that makes her heart clench unpleasantly. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lexa,” she says, her voice practically a whisper, and then she disappears into the hall. 

Lexa and Costia exchange a knowing look as Costia plops tiredly back into the armchair by Lexa’s bed. “What are we going to do about that?” Costia asks. 

Lexa looks back towards the door, like maybe Clarke will reappear, allow them to try to comfort and help her. She doesn’t. 

“I have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did we think? To continue or not to continue?


End file.
